


Love Letters

by spacedboy



Category: South Park
Genre: Kenny McCormick-centric, M/M, Not Beta Read, Pining, Writer's Block
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-19
Updated: 2019-10-19
Packaged: 2020-12-31 06:38:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21101369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacedboy/pseuds/spacedboy
Summary: Being in love kinda sucks.





	Love Letters

**Author's Note:**

> my phone doesn't let me add more tags?? what the hell?? anyways enjoy whatever this is

Kenny put his half broken orange pencil to his mouth.

_“What the hell am I supposed to write, what do I write?”_

The hooded boy thought, he was new to this whole ""confessing and writing down your feelings"" thing. Hell, Kenny rarely wrote anything if wasn’t necessary for school.

He crashed back onto his bed, the paper he was writing on fell beside him as he held the book that made it sturdy enough to mark on close to his chest.

Sighing, Kenny looked at the paper again for a final time before crumpling it up and throwing it on his bedroom floor. His room in particular was dirty enough, with all the small paper balls around on the floor near his bed.

Some of them were attempted trick shots to a trashcan he kept beside his bed but after the fifth attempted shot they all wound up on the ground.

What was Kenny trying so hard to write about, you ask? 

He was making a letter to give to his best friend, and crush of a year, Leopold (or the name the he usually went by which was Butters) Stotch.

Kenny was never artistically good with words, that was a gentle way to put it. All of his thoughts about the other boy were clear as glass in his head, but actually writing, typing, or saying it out never worked out. Kenny preferred to show his feelings through actions, because they speak louder to him than a voice ever will.

The only reason why he’s writing a love letter is because he asked for advice from a person whose caught onto who his crush is already, and that person is Craig Tucker.

Craig has an knack for finding out people’s crushes. Or, maybe he just has an impossibly high gaydar, who knows. For a more realistic answer, Kenny was just really obvious that he liked Butters and he caught on.

After he and Tweek started going out, Kenny just had to know how he confessed his feelings to him. Craig said that he wrote how he felt about him down in a journal, but the other found it and told him about it before he had the chance to confess. He suggested that Kenny do the same for his crush, but more directly. The worst Butters could say was no, at least.

The boy planted himself on the broken bed before standing up and stretching his arms and legs. Writing so much with your hand being illiterate can really make your entire body stiff. Kenny was finished with emotions for day, maybe he'll try again tomorrow.

Maybe if he's feeling hungry enough, he could steal a strawberry Poptart that's supposed to be saved for dinner.

The following night was stressful.

Kenny, someone who is usually known for slacking off, wants to get something done for once. It was sort of like a pet peeve, he doesn't like leaving things unfinished or he'll just feel weird about it afterwards. 

The blonde boy was dressed in his pajamas; an old white t-shirt, and the orange pants he usually wears when he goes to school. It got really chilly, but never enough to the point where he needed to put his parka back on. 

Kenny tousled his dirty hair into his palm, while looking at the dreaded almost blank piece of white paper. The only words he wrote on the page were "Dear Butters," placed on the upper left corner. Calling him Leopold would be too obvious because he called him Leo on a daily basis, and he had no idea how to format a letter on notebook paper either. 

Scooting out to the edge of the bed, Kenny looked out of the window for some writing inspiration.

Snowflakes slowly dropped like tears, the moonlight fully hitting them and adding onto a small pile of snow. The pale bone white glowing of the moon was covered by the beaten-up dirty curtains, but you could still see some light from the large holes in it. The window was nearly broken, but Kenny could still see his dull blue eyes in the foggy cracked glass. It made him think about Butters' eyes. How they were blue like his, but much, much, brighter. Whenever he looked at them, he felt like he could just dive into his retina and swim around in it's pool of blue. Maybe they're like that because he has most of his innocence left. Feeling inspired, Kenny quickly jotted down something about both of their eye colors as he looked back up towards the woods.

The trees in the woods that he lived near were blanketed with snow, the normally green leaves of the trees turned light grey like it was growing older and its hair was turning white. Through a small hole in the window, Kenny could smell the sort of fresh scent of damp pine. Scent... scent. Butters always had the scent of vanilla whenever he was close to him. Like a vanilla parfait with granola sprinkled on top that you buy at a gas station or something. Kenny scribbled something down about that immediately before he could lose the the thought.

After looking at the paper, he read off what he wrote out so far loud. "Dear, Butters." Kenny sighed, looking at his semi decent handwriting.

"Your eyes are as blue as Stark's Pond, it makes me want to strip down to my bathing suit and take a dive in them." Okay, maybe exclude the strip down part. He could always run it by Craig if he didn't mind being made fun of for the day. "I love that you always smell like vanilla, like the kinds you only smell when you're in a coffee shop." He needed more than just that, so he wanted to talk about his personality for a bit.

Putting the pencil down for the first time of what felt like forever, he had to think.

He was feeling tired and his eyelids were getting heavier just spacing out and looking at the paper under him. Trying to be romantic is tiring, huh. Kenny could always pick this back up in the morning before his siblings and parents could question him about it. Yeah, that seems like a good idea.

The boy let out a deep breath he didn't even know he had. Pencil and paper hitting the floor beside him, he drifted off to sleep. Maybe tonight he'd dream about Butters, and that would give him extra writing inspiration.

**Author's Note:**

> school is eating the energy outta me, so i just uploaded something that i never meant to finish. it's the weekend and i didn't write anything new this month, so requests and comments are appreciated!


End file.
